


There's giving, and there's taking

by Hypatia_66



Series: Early days [3]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: section7mfu, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 05:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12314361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: The little Russian bear receives an unexpected gift on the eve of departure for Berlin – and learns a terrible truth when he arrives.





	There's giving, and there's taking

**There's giving and there's taking. S** **hort Affair challenge** 9 October (Shirt. Yellow)

 

Napoleon watched his soon-to-be former partner staring at his desk, deep in thought. He wondered what was going through his mind.

“What time’s your flight to Berlin tomorrow?” he asked.

“About 9.00, I think,” Illya replied, “and it is to Frankfurt. Then we have to take the train because of the danger from...” he stopped.

He didn’t need to say more. The chief of the Berlin Station had insisted on their meeting in Frankfurt because the Russians threatened to shoot down any plane travelling through the central air corridor into Berlin if they considered it to be off the narrow flight path. They had already shot at and badly damaged one passenger plane. So, it would have to be the train, a very, very slow journey across the expanse of dull, flat lands between the two cities.

“I’ll take you to the airport.”

Illya looked up, “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“No, but I will. I’m going home now, but I’ll be here at 7.00.” He smiled at the look of youthful surprise on Illya’s face. “It’s what friends are for,” he said. Illya flushed, unused to friendly gestures, and Napoleon felt even worse about his part in getting him into this situation. He rose, went over and clasped a thin shoulder, “See you in the morning, partner,” he said, and left.

He walked, head down, along the corridor until someone called his name. “Hi, Beth,” he said giving her an automatically flirtatious smile.

“Napoleon, is it true the little Russian bear is leaving already?”

“How things get around in this place! Yes, it’s true. Posted to Berlin – he’s going tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s terrible. Poor guy, he’s so sweet. I wanted to get to know him.”

Napoleon had a thought, the kind of thought that Napoleon pretty nearly always had. “Beth, are you doing anything tonight?”

**********************

Illya left the commissary after eating what would probably be his last decent meal for a while, and went to his temporary quarters in the building to finish packing – not that he had anything much. It all went into two suitcases, and a lot of it was gramophone records and books.

He was sitting reading, when there was a tap at the door.

“Oh!” he said, opening it.

“Can I come in?”

“Um, yes, certainly. Is something wrong?”

“No,” she replied. “Just, we’re going to miss you, and I wondered if maybe you’d like some company on your last night here – your last night for a while, I mean.”

He stared at her, nonplussed. He remembered her from the group he had teased a day or two before in the commissary. He had laughed at them and, while all the others had blushed, an unreadable look had crossed this one’s face. Was this attractive young woman offering what he thought she was offering?

It seemed she was. She came in and, slipping her arms around his neck, felt his sudden heat through the thin material of his shirt.

It was a more wakeful night than he had anticipated, certainly more active, and a good deal more educational. He would have to catch up on sleep in the plane.

***************************

In the commissary at early breakfast, the group welcomed Beth arriving late to their table. “Well? You look like the cat that’s had the cream – let’s hear it. Who was it?”

“Let’s just say, the little Russian bear is no cub.”

“No! You and him? You hid that well! How did you manage it?”

~~~

Napoleon was true to his word, and arrived at 7.00. Illya seemed preoccupied, a little dazed, like someone given an unexpected gift. He completely failed to notice Napoleon’s complacent smile.

**************************

So many German cities had been all but razed to the ground. After even so brief a sojourn in New York – with its bright lights, promiscuously colourful streets, and huge (intact) buildings – flying over Europe and seeing the devastation again after was a renewed shock. It was all being gradually rebuilt, but it remained one big bombsite, greened over now, as if there had never been pretty timber-framed medieval houses, or grand, elegant buildings, libraries, museums, universities, and homes, standing where there were now just holes in the ground, and pink, white, and yellow wildflowers where there had been cultivated trees and shrubs.

Harry Beldon met him off the plane to ensure that his entry as a Soviet national would pass without incident. Illya could pass as Dutch or Scandinavian with his light hair and blue eyes, and Beldon wanted to keep it like that in a situation that allowed for so little protection. They had a compartment to themselves on the train so that contact with ordinary Germans would be minimal at this stage. Beldon’s flamboyance filled it, and he boomingly addressed his silent companion by his full Russian name, though his Ukrainian surname remained a lost cause – “Lieutenant Dr Ilya Nikolaevitch Kuryakin! Let me welcome you to Germany!” And he talked the whole way. It was a very long journey.

Their arrival many hours later in Berlin, another ruined city, was deeply depressing. Worse than depressing because, for the first time, Illya learned from Beldon what the liberating Russian army had done to the women and female children of the city. It was the open secret that everyone knew and no-one spoke of – and they hated Russians. Even working for the West, he wasn’t going to find it easy; and an encounter like the one on his last night in New York was frankly unimaginable here.

A new awareness of his isolation, a sense of shame and revulsion, would keep him on the straight and narrow; all he could do was concentrate on his work. Things couldn’t get worse.

**********************

**Author's Note:**

> There were several incidents in 1952-1953 of the Russians shooting at chiefly military American and British planes trying to land in Berlin – but a French passenger plane flying in from Frankfurt was lucky to land safely after being badly damaged in 1952.
> 
> The behaviour of the Russian army was appalling though far from unusual. Rape as a weapon of war has been used by soldiers of all armies throughout history, but in 1945 it may have involved around 100,000 women and girls in Berlin, 2 million in Germany as a whole.


End file.
